


Dangerous Affiliations

by DreamingOfSummer



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Always a Different Sex, Cultural Differences, Female Fred Weasley, Gen, Pureblood Culture, world building
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-07
Updated: 2015-02-07
Packaged: 2018-03-10 23:26:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3307184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DreamingOfSummer/pseuds/DreamingOfSummer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Life is a series of natural and spontaneous changes. Don't resist them; that only creates sorrow. Let reality be reality. Let things flow naturally forward in whatever way they like.”<br/>When Frederica "Rica"Weasley was Sorted in Slytherin she thought her life to be over. How could she possably manage to survive in the snake pit and navigate through the convoluted web that was their daily interactions? Little did she know, the Hat is always right.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dangerous Affiliations

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is my new story, which might be updated next month. I have all sorts of ideas about it, where it might go and what might happen. I hope you don't mind the OCs, I really can't avoid having them.   
> The main focus of DA is, of course, the relationship between the twins and the culture of the wizarding world, so if you want some world-building and are Weasley twins' fan, you're in the right place.

** Dangerous Affiliations **

 

**First Year**

_“Life is a series of natural and spontaneous changes. Don't resist them; that only creates sorrow. Let reality be reality. Let things flow naturally forward in whatever way they like.”_

 

As Frederica Weasley was lying in her bed in Slytherin, she had trouble falling asleep. Granted, there was the fact that she was still dressed in her second-hand robes and was on top of the silvery-white covers rather than under them, but she was certain that sleep would have eluded her anyway.

 _It ought to be a mistake_ ; Rica kept repeating to herself, over and over, _I cannot be a slimy snake, I simply cannot be_.

When the Hat had suggested it, Slytherin, she had felt all the blood drain from her face and had vehemently refused to even consider this an option. She was a Weasley, a lion and a Gryffindor, not a slimy Slytherin. But the blasted old piece of headwear had other ideas. It had yelled, for everyone to hear, **_‘SLYTHERIN!_** ’ and that was that. Frederica was to become the first Weasley in Slytherin (if one discounted some of the Weasley-by-marriage, of course).

The Slytherins had applauded, if a bit apprehensively and the female prefect had welcomed her with a smile (which did, in fact, look the slightest bit forced, but then again Rica was a Weasley and obviously not meant for Slytherin). During the entire feast, she had felt too scared to turn and face her brothers and too nervous to eat and enjoy herself. Her new housemates had left her alone with her thoughts after she had failed to respond to any of her questions with more than a couple of syllables.

If only George had been Sorted with her, it might, no, _would_ have been better. It would have been their greatest prank yet.  But no, her twin brother, her other half, was a Gryffindor through and through. His Sorting had taken quite a bit of time, she recalled. She had been unable to see his face but his lips had been moving so fast and after their fate had been announced and McGonagall had taken the Hat from him he had glanced at her with regret before moving to his new table with their older brothers congratulating him and patting him on the back.  For a second she felt a pang of resentment towards him, for having what she wanted, but the grief over their separation quickly smothered it. They had never been apart before and now, now they would have to spend seven years in different Houses.

She missed him. Not being around George was like losing a limb. It was an almost physical pain.

But, but what if he hated her now?  What would her parents say? And her other siblings? She would be disowned! What if they never spoke to her again? What if _George_ never spoke to her again? What would she do? She would rather die than have him not speak to her, than to have her own twin look at her with eyes filled with disdain. 

There was something wet on her cheeks, Rica realized. She lifted her hands to brush what _could-not be_ tears only for more of the _not-tears_ to roll down. She could not be crying. She was Frederica Weasley and she was not a cry-baby! 

Suddenly, she stood up on her bed and brushed her tears for one last time before pulling the deep green curtains (which were in a rather nice color) that looked black in the night and softly padded barefoot to the bathroom, careful not to wake her roommates. The other girls were fast asleep (all five of them) and waking up the spoiled rich Slytherin princesses was hardly the best of ideas. Admittedly, they had been nice if a bit reserved towards her, as bewildered at her sorting as she was, but disturbing their sleep would not endear her to them.

The face that greeted her from the mirror was unfamiliar. It could not have been her. When she was getting ready to leave in the morning her Mom had braided her hair in one long French braid, not a single hair out of place. She remembered when she had looked at the mirror she had seen a red-haired girl with a smile a mile long and sparkling blue eyes. Now her bright eyes were dulled and rimmed with red rings, tearstains on her cheeks and hair all over the place. Even her tanned skin (from many hours spend outdoors) had a grayish sheen to it. 

She looked pathetic.

She was Frederica Weasley.

Pathetic wasn't an option.

It was unacceptable.

She was strong and proud and a Weasley. 

Rica stretched her shaking hand and turned on the water. She washed her face to erase the tear-stains. Having regained her composure and frankly, feeling rather sleepy, Rica decided to head to bed to catch a few hours of sleep. 

Quietly she returned to the dorm and changed into her blue silk pajamas (a gift for their shared birthday by George; he had been saving for nearly a year for them) despite feeling a bit cold and slipped under the covers, trying not to think about tomorrow and before she knew it, she fell asleep. 

.x.

Frederica woke to someone shaking her. 

"Wake up, Weasley," said the blurred face of Alexandra Selwyn (from 'those' Selwyn) with palpable irritation. We're not going to be late because of you," the 'blood traitor' went unsaid only out of some sort of snake solidarity, Rica would guess. Honor among thieves (and murderous Dark -Wizards-in-training) most likely.

"Let go off me then, Selwyn," Rica pushed the other's hand and left the comfort of the big bed and headed for the bathroom. "How much time do I have?"

"Half an hour," came the answer from somewhere behind her delivered with a disdainful sniff. Rica heard rustling of clothes, as she closed the door of the adjoined room. Unlike last night (or had it been early in the morning) it was filled with noise and steam as three of her roommates were in it, taking a quick shower and brushing their teeth.

“Morning,” she greeted them with what she hoped was a smile but most likely looked like a grimace. She went to the last free shower amidst muffled greetings and as soon as she stepped under it, the doors slid themselves shut. Letting the cool water relax her muscles, the eleven-year-old tried not to think of the upcoming breakfast (her first in Hogwarts) and what might happen. Trying not to let her imagination run wild (but failing), she dried herself off with her towel and quickly dressed up with her school robes before opening the doors of the shower.

“Feeling better?” asked one of the girls with her hair in a high ponytail.

“I… yeah, thanks,” nearly stuttered Frederica in her surprise. “Um…”

“Oh, I’m Max, Emily Max,” the girl (Max) smiled and gave a small curtsey (with a towel in one arm and toothbrush in the other).

“Weasley, Frederica Weasley,” answered Rica automatically and curtseying as well. Such (relatively) formal introductions had fallen out of practice after the War, but her mother had been delighted at the prospect of teaching her daughter everything about etiquette. Those lessons had been rather tedious, especially since all her eight-year-old self had wanted was to go outside and fly with George (who had been and still was the only one of her brothers who didn’t treat her as a fragile little girl).

“I hope we can become great friends, Miss Weasley.”

“So do I Miss Max.”

As the time to go to breakfast came nearer, the knot inside her stomach grew progressively worst and by the time the female Prefect (whose name she had missed last night) came to lead them to the Hall it took Rica all her willpower to stop her hands from shaking. At the entrance, Max fell into step with her and linked their arms.

“You were looking a bit lost,” she said in a way of explanation at Frederica’s confused look.

“I do not need nor want your help or pity, Miss Max,” Frederica managed to say through gritted teeth, fighting the blush that was spreading on her cheeks, desperately trying to remember her Mom’s lessons.

“Nor am I giving you any. Are we not friends now?” no, they were acquaintances or allies, but not friends. Everyone knew Slytherins were too heartless to have real friends.

“And now the real reason,” she didn’t want to play their games. Especially those whose rules she did not understand.  

“You are a Weasley in Slytherin, which makes you interesting and they,” the brunet nodded towards their other classmates, “look too uptight for my taste.”

“Convenience, then?”

“I suppose so. Do you have any problem with that?” why yes, yes she did, but there was no one else lining up to be her sort-of-friend and she didn’t want to be alone, so…

“No, I guess not.”

“Great,” Emily shot an almost blinding smile at her. “What do you think of Hogwarts so far?” and this is how Frederica Weasley and Emily Max (sort of) started their friendship.

.x.

The Great Hall was not as magnificent during the day, the girls discovered with regret, with the grey clouds hanging from the sealing-sky rather than the stars from last night, the candles no longer lit and most of the decorations (for the feast) gone. The food was just as much though, with the same quality.

The Gryffindor table, at which direction Rica’s gaze had gone the moment she stepped into the Hall, was  almost empty, save for the odd student or two falling asleep over a steaming cup of something. Actually, that was true all four tables, even the Slytherin one. The first years did not bother to ask why they had to come so early, the fifth year was in rather poor spirits and liable to hex them if the bothered her.

The older girl (and Rica still didn’t know her name) left them alone as soon as she could, getting herself a cup of something black (so that’s how coffee looked like) and drinking half of its content in less than a minute.

“Strawberry or plump?” a voice came from her right and Rica turned to face the prettiest girl in their small group. She had long sleek blond hair, green eyes and pale unblemished skin.

A stammered “What?” was all Rica could say.

“Merlin, Miss Weasley, are you deaf as well as stupid, strawberry or peach jam?” she repeated her question and held two dishes, each filled with jam. The way she had said the _Miss_ was obvious what Tripe thought of her.

“Ah, strawberry, Miss Tripe, thank you.”

The blond passed the dish with barely concealed irritation, obviously done solely because of manners alone. Lauren Tripe appeared to have set the tone of their meal because everyone, Frederica included, adhered as closely to the proper protocol at they could. For the first (and unfortunately probably not the last time) Frederica thanked her Mom for forcing on her all those tedious lessons. Otherwise, she would have embarrassed herself on her very first day.

“Would somebody pass me the sugar?” asked Selwyn just as a large group of Gryffidors was entering the Hall. Rica turned her back on the door and the lions’ table, having recognized the flaming red hair, and quickly gave the bowl of sugar to the other blond. “Thank you, Miss Weasley.”

“My pleasure, Miss Selwyn.”

The meal would have passed in a similar matter while they waited for their Head of House (and why was she stuck with the biggest git of all) to give them their timetables (double Potions with Gryffindor, _seriously_ ), interrupted only by the mail (hopefully no one had written home yet), had it not been for one person.

Frederica was already on edge, so when she noticed when Ashley Wilkes’s eyes narrowed at something behind her, Selwyn’s following soon after, she turned around expecting the worst (though not quite certain what it was) only to see the familiar face of her twin, which was carefully clear of any emotion.

“George,” she greeted, smiling hesitantly, hoping that he was not mad at her and did not hate her. He frowned for a moment before glancing at her almost-empty plate.

“Are you done?”

“Yes,” hopefully it hadn’t sounded like a question. By now, nearly every conversation within five feet of them was silenced, everyone wanting to her what they had to say. It would do her no good to be seen as week by them. Even if George rejected her, she would not cry in front of Slytherin, she would not.

“Will you let me escort you to class?” he asked, offering her his right arm. It was bizarre, seeing her twin act like that, but he seemed to have realized the need for manners and was completely serious.

“Yes, of course, brother,” the words left her mouth as soon as he finished talking and took his outstretched arm, letting George help her get up. He linked their arms and took her backpack (in which she had put all of hers (Charley’s) textbooks, having been unwilling to return to the cold dungeons after breakfast), throwing it over his left shoulder as if it weighted nothing. Frederica nodded in goodbye to her not-friends and let her brother lead her out of the Great Hall.

“Do you know how to get to the classroom?” she asked in a low voice when they were several feet away from her table.

“I asked Percy,” he answered with outward calm. She knew better. George was nervous and anxious and she had no idea what to do to calm him down. At least he hadn’t rejected her for being a Slytherin. That was something.

They walked in silence and Frederica felt as if everyone’s eyes were on them and no sooner had they left the Hall and she breathed a sigh in relief, leaning in George for support.

“Are you alright?” he asked, worry evident in his voice and with a firm grip on her arm.

“Yes, don’t worry. Never better,” she answered with fake brightness, fully aware that he could see through her mask with ease.

“Fred,” George softly breathed her childhood nickname only he was allowed to speak and raised his free arm to rest on her cheek. “I am worried about you. I haven’t slept all night and so have you,” a thumb brushed the slight bruise under her eye. “Please, tell me how you are,” he begged. Only her he ever begged no one else, not even their parents.

“I, I don’t know,” she averted her eyes, incapable of looking at his any longer. There had been no hate in them, not disgust or distrust, but the worry and sadness, she couldn’t bear them either. “I guess it’s not so bad. Everyone is so polite though, so uptight that it is almost suffocating. I don’t want to be there! I want to be a Gryffindor with you and Charlie and Bill and even Percy, not a snake! Please don’t, don’t hate me, I tried to stop it, I really did but the Hat just, it just had to make me a snake! I didn’t want to, I swear, I am not evil, please don’t hate me!” and she burst into tears, sobbing in her twin’s arms as he held her tight, stroking her head and muttering things in her ear.

Soon, her tears stopped and Rica realized that she had essentially broken down in the middle of a corridor where anyone could pass through in any second. George probably felt her stiffen in his arms and correctly guessing the reason why chuckled in her hair. 

“Don’t worry, sis, no one will notice us here.”

He had moved them to an alcove out of the way. Had she been so far gone not to notice? Rica felt her whole face flush in embarrassment. At least it was George; he would never say a single word about her break-down. She let her head lay on his chest, listening to the rhythmic _thud thud thud_ noises his heart made.

They stood there in silence for some time before he spoke again, his voice solemn. “I am so sorry, Fred, I hope you can forgive me one day.”

“What?” what was he on about?

“I shouldn’t have left you alone in there. I should have come with you, but the Hat refused to budge. I am sorry you would even consider I could ever hate you. You - my twin sister, my soul! That any of us could ever hate you. We were all so worried about you; Charlie was ready to move in Slytherin to keep you safe.”

“I-“she didn’t know what to say. Her brothers didn’t hate her! “I just broke down like a little girl, didn’t I?” Rica asked instead, changing the subject. George, bless him Merlin and Morgana, let it slide.

“Yep. And because of your ahh ‘delicate sensibilities’ were will be late for Potions.”

“We’re dead”

And all was right I the world.

At least for a little while.

.x.


End file.
